Jump
by Momosportif
Summary: Lavi ficlet. Reflection about the restrictions and difficulties of being a bookman, albeit one in training. A stranger on the train ride helps junior see things straight. Kind of angsty... at first. Just a drabble. Characters are Hoshino's. Please enjoy!


"Ghastly weather, eh?"

"No, I don't like the look of it."

He looked out of place, to be sure, but he knew that in the big picture he was simply another head in the throng boarding a train in the pouring rain. 

"Exorcist," he turned his head towards the voice, looking down at a tiny portly man bursting out of his brass button studded maroon suit that matched the upholstery perfectly, "come with me please, my good man!" He blinked, raindrops sliding off the eyelashes of his one visible eye, taking note of but ignoring the grumbles of passengers as they surged around him, the rock in the river. His boots left dark moist imprints on the dull carpet of the first class section, invisible atop the layers of muddy footprints from hundreds of others. "Right this way sir, we're so glad to have you on board, in fact I was just telling-" 

"Pretty," smiled an ancient toothless woman, sitting alone in a booth, eyes shut as she listened to the music the rain pattered out on the train's immobile body. 

"Pretty..." he repeated, staring out the windows at gray dove feather clouds and watercolor sky. 

"But we've got to do what we can, as I always say, indeed, do what we can. And here's your seat, sir." 

"Thanks." He hesitated before awkwardly sidling past the hefty man and sitting down near the window. He sat as if he didn't belong, teetering on the edge of the bench, waiting for the usher to move on. 

"Call if you need me!" The squat man wobbled away down the maroon hallway leaving him alone at last for the two-hour drive. 

"Heeeh," he sighed, looking around miserably at the velour and brass prison with a tiny square of glass to give the cell mates false hopes. He decided to practice language translations and then absorbing too much information by reading multiple texts in quick succession. 

Then knot tying with his scarf. 

Then cat's cradle with his bandana. 

Then making snowflakes in his condensed breath on the windows. 

Then making blobs. 

He pretended he was normal for a second, a normal exorcist, who really wanted to kill whatever akuma awaited him at the next stop, who wanted to do a good thing for the world, to keep someone safe. But the truth was he didn't really want this mission, wasn't supposed to care if he did a good thing or a bad thing, didn't have anyone to keep safe. Except himself, and that was vital. 

"I was just saying we could use a little rain for the crops, you know, good weather's hard to come by." The door across from his booth slid open as the usher trotted down his maroon tunnel again. He opened his door and followed the blur of tracked-in mud to where the white-haired lady was sitting. She was still smiling, fast asleep. He sat down beside her, ashamed that he couldn't stay sane alone in his booth. 

"Where are you going, child?" He started, turning to the woman whose eyes were still peacefully shut. 

"I don't know…" he answered softly, leaning his head back against the chilled pane of glass. "I want to get off." 

"I'm going to Venice." 

"Oh… I'm going to Rome, I thought you meant, earlier-"She cracked a craggy grin he recognized from Bookman's features, the smile that let you know you'd been intellectually bested. 

"I was." She put a corner of her shawl artfully around her shoulder. "Then get off the train, if that's what you want." 

"I can't-" 

"You can, child. You can do anything." Lavi turned to take in her severe face, strength emanating from the folds of antiquity. "But the jump will hurt considerably more than the ride." He stared at the plush between his feet and forgot about how out of place he was for the space of leagues of passing telephone poles. Ink crawled through the watercolor sky. He broke from his reverie as the ancient old woman rose and murmured, "Just know who you jump for before you fall for them."

"Bu-" Her dove feather shawl faded among the suits and maroon as she was swallowed by the footfalls of first class feet on the light brown dried mud. He stared until the train swayed them both into motion and then he returned to his own car, thankful for the rain. He had boarded the train with no one. 

Lavi left with the world to fight for. 


End file.
